I’m not sure the crabs of Mudeford (pronounced Muddyford) themselves realised they were so cute. In fact, I’d like to apologise to the crabs of Mudeford.

Imagine, please.

Crabs are cold-blooded creatures which enjoy an almost mythical status amongst children. What child doesn’t fear being told to pick up a crab by an adult?

“Look here,” my dad used to tell me when I was a boy. “Pick it up like this and the pincers won’t get you”.

Every time I tried the pincers got me, squeezing pieces of my fleshy fingers into little ridges of agony. Every time I saw a crab I would look at it in awe, amazed by the pounds of pressure it would pile onto me if I dared to reach out and pick it up. I decided that crabs were best admired from a distance.

Crabs, I believe, like that reputation.

So, back to the crabs of Mudeford.

Not only were they plucked from the sea by one of a very large line of people armed with crabbing lines. No, not only that.

Not only were they put into buckets of water in the sun, where the water gradually heated up and slow-boiled their soft interiors to an ignoble death. Nope, not even that.

The crabs of Mudeford, on this day, had to endure the children of our party plucking them out of their buckets and giving them a cuddle. In front of cameras. Crabs, you must understand, have a reputation to protect. These cold-blooded scavengers with enormous pincers need to be feared by children, not picked up and cuddled.

Crabs of Mudeford, I apologise unreservedly.

Although it has to be said you are very cute…

…and cuddly.

Points on this part of the walk (copy and paste the co-ordinates into Google Earth):